Flawed Perfection
by lostinrealityforever
Summary: Post Hogwarts DMHG. The war is coming to an end, the Order of the Phoenix are winning but Hermione's emotions have been ripped to shreds. Does Draco hold the missing piece of the puzzle in more than one way?
1. All Quiet On The Western Front

**A/N:** Another fic from me...this time Voldemort's still around. The action to start with is set in a place called Scraesdon Fort in Cornwall (UK), this place actually exists and if you search on Google you can find some decent pictures. I've spent a fair bit of time there on exercise with the Combined Cadet Force (similar to the Army Cadet Force but attached to a school) and let me tell you, its one haunting place and I'd love to explore it further. Thats where a lot of the army related knowledge in this fic comes from as well, so sorry if its at all confusing. Enjoy, review and let me know what you think!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing of importance except an appointment with a scalpel for my left knee this Thursday morning. Harry Potter and everything else related to it belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Bros.

* * *

Hermione shivered and pulled the coat further around her, someone - probably Molly Weasley doing her best for the field agents, had decided that a combination of British Army uniforms from across the ages would be a good combination for Order of the Phoenix uniforms. And Molly had been right; they gave them a sense of conformity and comradeship, something they needed desperately at any given moment – they were edging closer to winning the war, but it was difficult. And it didn't stop the World War One style wool from being impossibly itchy. 

When she had first seen her uniform laid out on a bed in Grimmauld Place Hermione had choked back an ironic laugh, it was so typical of wizards picking bits of Muggle clothing. But despite everything, it worked. And so, crouched at the base of a Napoleonic fort in Cornwall – one of the main Order bases, she wore loose black combat trousers and commando boots, of 21st century style, a long sleeved black t-shirt of her own, and in the style of 19th century rifle regiment officers jackets, the Order of the Phoenix senior commanders jacket – black with black braiding and silver buckles, red cuffs with gold edging and the phoenix badge on the sleeve. Four rings of gold and red around her left wrist proclaimed her a Lieutenant Colonel.

And of course the infernal great coat, irritatingly heavy and a royal pain in the arse when it rained, but bloody brilliant if you were sat in an oversized ditch, back against rough stone on fucking sentry duty. A colonel, on sentry duty? The mere idea of it was ridiculous as far as she was concerned. But then a lot of the lower ranks needed a break and the rest were out on patrols, so Hermione being the saint she was, offered to go on duty.

A scuffle from behind her and a dark figure, cloak billowing behind him jumped down from a tunnel entrance. "Who goes there?" She levelled her wand at the tall, well built hooded man and her brows knitted in concentration.

"Potter. Colonel. Phoenix."

"Password…"

"'Mione…" Harry groaned, leaning carelessly against the wall.

"Password." She held firm, better wizards and witches had made this mistake.

"Flobber."

"Worm. Pass friend and be recognised." Harry pushed off the wall and sat down next to her, lowering his hood and hugging his knees to his chest.

"That has to be the most god awful password…ever." He passed her a flask of steaming hot chocolate. "Seriously. Who comes up with them?"

"Administration." Hermione shivered and sipped the chocolate; a thick fog was settling over the Tamar and creeping up the Lynher towards the fort. She was in for a long night.

"Bloody Ravenclaws. All quiet on the Western front then?" Harry surveyed Hermione's line of vision, the black of the river glinted through the trees down the hillside.

"Decidedly so. What brings you down here? Other than peace offerings?" She raised the flask and chuckled, the pair had argued over length of sentry duty earlier that day, and Harry had overridden her suggestion of a slightly shorter time on – he outranked her but always insisted it was purely symbolic, except when he wanted to get things his way.

"I'm tense 'Mione. It's all so relaxed up there, I know we're winning. I can feel it in my bones, he's angry and they're wavering. But I'm scared…I don't know if I can…it's…difficult…"

Hermione set the flask down on a handy tree stump and pulled her best friend into a hug. "You can do it. And you know why you can do it, because you can love."

Harry grasped her tightly. "I love you Hermione."

"I love you too Harry." It wasn't a declaration of desperate longing, it was purely platonic but it would win him this war one day. It would bring him peace. One day. But not today.

"Still, its fucking freezing here and I doubt he's going to come strolling up to Scraesdon to seek me out. Especially not with you on guard." Harry winked and stood once more. He reached into his pockets and ruffled around for a second before drawing out a scrap of parchment and handing it to Hermione. "New password, they change in," he glanced at his watch. "Ten minutes. Night 'Mione."

"Night Harry." And he was gone, sliding through the narrow opening into the dark passages of the fort. It was a truly magnificent structure, Muggle of course, built by prisoners of war back in the 19th century. Vast and unwelcoming, cold and frightening, but at the moment it buzzed with activity, intelligence was combed over in the underground chambers accessed by long and deep tunnels, far from prying ears. Troops lodged above ground, surrounding the massive common area in large rooms. It was war on a grand scale, and yet until now, had never been used in anger.

Ten minutes until the password rotation – that meant it was nearing 1am, only another five hours on duty then. Five cold hours in the undergrowth with nothing but her own troubled mind for company.

* * *

_Hermione's full rank is Lieutenant Colonel, but generally when adressing someone of said rank, you call them Colonel because the full title's too long._


	2. A Wretched Man, A Haunted Woman

Hermione glanced at her watch again, thirty minutes; thirty fucking minutes since Harry had waltzed down here all angst and nonchalance. And he had every right to be, because difficult as fighting people driven by pure sadism was, the Order were organised now, and the Death Eaters knack for spreading discourse and enmity was hitting them hard – in their ranks, no one trusted anyone and they killed as many of their own as they did of the Order.

A scratching in the undergrowth and Hermione reached for her wand again, as she watched closely in the darkness a bush seemed to grow into a man – a tall and strong looking man except, as soon as he had stood and edged closer to her petite form he keeled over his head striking a half buried rock. Hermione pressed down on her legs and stood, wand pointing directly at him.

Unconscious. Bugger. Kneeling beside him her eyes widened in horror as she slipped the hood of an expensive finely tailored robe, sleek platinum blonde hair was revealed along with the all too familiar pale face.

"Malfoy…" Hermione breathed, glancing around nervously, but of course – there was no one there. She shivered as she saw the blood seeping thickly from the new wound on his head, but it wasn't the first, his robes were ripped through to his pale skin. Pale, scarred and bloodied skin. "What are you doing here Malfoy? What are you doing here?" She spoke softly as she pulled his wand from a pocket.

Standing up Hermione reached into her pocket for a small phoenix shaped badge and tapped her wand to it, within a few minutes she would be joined by another sentry. Glancing over Draco's wounds she performed a quick cleaning spell so that she could see the full extent of the damage but the blood began to flow again so quickly it was a hopeless case. She knew better than to try any healing spells, she was fully capable but without seeing the full extent of the damage it was dangerous. She could be doing him more harm than good.

Sitting back on her heels she studied Draco's face, flawed perfection. Unconsciously she brushed the blood matted hair from his forehead, her hand knocking the lump on his brow bone where he had been beaten long ago.

"Hermione?" She turned around to see Harry striding towards her. "Who is it?"

"Malfoy." She watched silently as Harry's mouth gaped and he knelt beside her, inspecting the wretched man before them.

"Merlin…" Harry glanced at Hermione and noticed the worry in her eyes. Seven years ago – they'd just left Hogwarts after the disastrous end to their sixth year, Malfoy and Snape had come to them at the Dursley's. Snape was a broken man – he had been working for the Order, but to find out what Draco's mission had been he'd done something which would kill the one person who had trusted him. Harry didn't know what Draco's story had been; Hermione had been the one guarding him whilst he grilled Snape. But when the pair had left to return to Voldemort, Hermione had watched Draco leave with a tinge of sadness and Harry knew that whatever he had said Hermione now trusted him implicitly.

"He needs treatment." Hermione broke Harry from his reverie and the younger boy nodded.

"You take him. I'll cover you here."

Hermione stood and with a flick of her wand she was guiding Draco towards the narrow tunnel entrance and Harry was helping them through to a small ante chamber where no lights burned despite the lanterns. Moving quickly she made her way up the hundreds and hundreds of steep steps that led to the main area of the fort, Draco floating just ahead of her all the time. Emerging into the relaxed quiet she guided the limp body towards the field hospital, as she stepped into the sterile area a young girl a few years younger than herself rushed forward.

"Colonel Granger…"

"Don't ask any questions." Hermione allowed Draco to come to rest on a spare bed. "Ignore any recognition of him that you might have, ignore any mark you may find on him, just treat him." She took a breath and stepped away from the bed. "And inform me _immediately_ when he wakes up."

"Yes ma'am." The young healer saluted and Hermione turned on her heel, marching swiftly to the administration headquarters where she was greeted by Terry Boot.

He glanced at the large clock on the wall. "Morning Colonel, I thought you were…"

"I was. A small matter arose." She sat down next to Terry on a clattering old chair and swiftly pulled a register of troops towards her. "Harry's down at the track, on duty." She scanned the lists. "Connolly and Finch, they can relieve him."

"Certainly." Terry nodded and set about finding the summons badges for the two men. He noticed that Hermione had dropped her head into her hands and seemed in some pain. "Hermione?"

She stood quickly and gave him the briefest of smiles. "I'm okay Terry, I'm okay." He nodded and watched her closely as she crossed the fort towards the officer's barracks, disappearing into the darkness of the doorway.


	3. More Of A Man

Harry leant against the empty frame of the entrance to Hermione's small room and watched as she pulled the dirty shirt from her lithe frame – in war you sleep in uniform, the enemy like ruining your sleep. Her back was to him and as her milky skin was revealed a deep scar across her right shoulder blade was visible.

"If I didn't know better Harry, I'd say you were hoping for a free show." There was light amusement in her voice despite everything as she pulled a clean shirt on and tucked it into her combat trousers. Ignoring the comment he remained in place as she pulled her hair back into a bun, a few strands slipping free despite her best efforts. "Well?"

"Malfoy's awake." He watched her face closely for the reaction. He could have sworn he saw excitement mingle with the concern that was immediately visible. "I said I'd pass the message on. And told them to stop gossiping."

Hermione nodded and pulled on her jacket, fumbling in her haste as she tried to do up the countless buttons. "He's fine. Tired and obviously he hasn't spoken much yet. But he's fine." Harry stepped forward and brushed her hands aside, quickly fastening the buttons with quick and nimble fingers.

"I…" She moved to speak but didn't quite know what to say, Harry leant down and placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

"Go to him." Harry nodded and walked out of the bare room which housed only a small bed and a trunk where Hermione's belongings were kept, a piece of dirty glass on the stone mantelpiece served as a mirror.

As she entered the field hospital she noticed that a fair few healers were surrounding the bed she'd left Draco, they all saluted her as she approached. "Good morning ma'am."

"Leave…" A few eyebrows were raised but no questions were asked, war had changed Hermione Granger. Gone was the innocent and naïve girl, in her place stood a calculating, hard, bitter and ruthless young woman. Her eyes held the ghosts of her past, the friends she had lost, the loved ones gone forever, she rarely showed emotion in public anymore. No one saw the silent tears she cried. Five years ago her parents had been murdered by faceless cowardly Death Eaters, and it was said that part of Hermione had died that day. There were questions that would never, could never be answered. Proud smiles that would never greet her again.

Hermione turned to the bed to see a pair of haunted grey eyes staring up at her. "How long have I been here?"

She checked her watch. "About eight hours. How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted."

"Why are you…" Draco cut her off as he lifted a limp hand and held a finger to her cold lips. He reached into the pocket of his robe which lay, clean and folded, next to his bed. Hermione gasped; in his hand lay the locket, the final Horcrux.

"I believe you were looking for this?" The weak smirk on his face said it all. Draco Malfoy had finally achieved something worthwhile.

"Where did you…" Again the finger met her lips and once again Draco was surprised by her temperature, the Phoenix uniforms had always looked warm. Or did the cold run deeper than her veins?

"I have my contacts." He managed a faint smile before his eyes closed in much needed sleep. A single tear slipped down Hermione's cheek as she reached for the seemingly innocuous locket and departed to find Harry and the rest of the senior command immediately.

* * *

"He will have his reasons for doing this of course." A general murmur of consent was heard around the table of high ranking Phoenix officers and Hermione held her head in her hands.

"Don't you understand…" She groaned. "He's not Lucius. He's different. He has brought us the last piece of the puzzle…"

"Forgive me Colonel Granger; I didn't know you cared about the boy." A chuckle rang around the room and Hermione rose, sending her chair flying to the floor such was her haste.

"He's more of a man then any of you will ever be." She spat the words out into the silence. "He's gone against everything he has ever known or been taught to help us, and if you can't accept that by way of apology then I'm not sure I can stand to fight with people like you."

She fled the room and was halfway across the fort before Harry could reach her. He grasped her wrist, knocking an old wound and she howled in pain as he pulled her back. "Hermione!" She glared up at him, eyes glistening with tears in the cold afternoon light. Draco had not awoken since they had spoken the previous day, and she had felt slightly lost amidst the quiet celebratory atmosphere in the fort.

"Don't Harry, I know you agree with them…" She shook her arm free from his grasp and shot him an accusatory glance as she nursed the wound.

"I don't…look Hermione, you know what they're like – narrow minded, they didn't understand Snape and they don't want to try and comprehend why Lucius Malfoy's son and heir has brought us the key to Voldemort's downfall."

Hermione nodded but turned away. "When's Ron due back?" Their best friend was away on a mission, scouting out Death Eater bases – it wasn't particularly dangerous, nothing Ron couldn't handle but it was important and with the locket secure it was becoming increasingly vital that they kept tabs on the Dark Lord and his followers.

"A few days I think. It all depends. But, Hermione he's not going to like Malfoy being around anymore than them…" He jerked his head towards the command room and Hermione clenched her jaw.

"What makes you think I like it anymore than the rest of you?"


	4. True Energy

"It was just a feeling…" Harry muttered as Hermione walked away from him, she didn't turn back and he didn't want her to. There was something she wasn't telling him, and he didn't want to force it from her. When she was ready, she would talk. For now she needed to think.

A feeling that's probably right, Hermione thought as she crossed the grass toward the field hospital. The callous laughs of her fellow officers ringing in her ears as she sat down beside Draco and let the tears flow readily from her eyes. Burning rivers down her cheeks as she entwined her fingers with Draco's, so absorbed in her unknown grief that she did not notice him squeeze her hand tenderly as she buried her head on his grey shirt covered chest.

Hours later Ginny Weasley found them, Draco's hand stroking Hermione's hair as she silently coughed and choked the last of her tears away. His eyes met Ginny's and she smiled softly, she didn't think like the senior command, she was one of the few that realised that Draco had turned a huge corner in his life. He raised a finger to his lips and Ginny nodded, turning and leaving quickly and quietly.

Draco placed his hands either side of Hermione's face and raised it up slightly. "Better?" He asked softly.

"A little." She smiled weakly; embarrassed that he had let her sit and cry for god knows how long. Luckily the field hospital was empty save him, and no one else had witnessed her outcry of emotion.

"Good."

Hermione roused herself slightly and sat up, running her hands through the wild mass of hair that had escaped the bun. "Are you hungry?" She asked, attempting to scrape the hair back in a French braid. He nodded and she stood up. "Stay there, I'll be back soon."

"I wasn't planning on going anywhere." He gave her a wry smile and she shivered before making her way to the kitchens. There was always warm food available in the fort, it was frequently cold and people got back from missions at any time of the day. Hermione smiled at the kitchen staff who nearly fainted, the only people Lieutenant Colonel Granger smiled at anymore were the Weasley's or Harry Potter.

Rolling her eyes she gathered some steaming hot chicken soup and a few fresh bread rolls on a tray before heading back to the field hospital. "Smells good Granger, I didn't know you could cook."

Hermione raised an eyebrow and set the tray down on Draco's lap, taking a bowl for herself as she settled herself on the chair once more. "I can't. At least, not very well anyway. Didn't really have time to learn, what with the war and all…" Her voice trailed off and she busied herself with tearing a bread roll to pieces and throwing it in the soup.

"You're allowed to be upset by it you know."

"By what Malfoy? Because if you are suggesting that I collapse under all the emotional strain of fighting for the last seven years, hell, fighting since I went to Hogwarts, then I sure as hell would not be sat here now."

"I know about your parents…"

Hermione grew very quiet and became very still, Draco watched her carefully, he knew the pain in her eyes, could sense the guilt flowing through her. "How?"

He shrugged. "I heard the attack being planned, heard the reports made after its completion. I'm sorry, I…I couldn't do anything."

"I wouldn't have expected you to. They weren't anything to you."

"More than you'll ever know." He spoke quietly and his voice sent a shiver up her spine. "What's happening now then? With the locket? The Dark Lord?"

"The locket has been destroyed. Plans are being made, reconnaissance stepped up." She swallowed some of the soup, trying not to dwell on what he had said, what he was implying.

"Good. Glad to know it wasn't all for nothing." A careless smirk played across his lips, infuriating Hermione.

"You…you…heartless bastard. You make it sound as if your singular act will win this entire war, that we cannot do this without your wondrous presence. Well I've got news for you Draco Malfoy; people have been fighting this battle for over twenty years and you're not the only casualty." She threw her bowl to the floor and it smashed spectacularly, sending the remainder of her dinner flying across the rough stone floor. Draco's eyes widened as she turned and ran, his eyes remained fixed on the doorway for an indeterminable amount of time until a shadow fell across him once more.

"Proud of yourself are you Malfoy?" Harry barely raised his voice as he crossed the room. "Scourgify." The soup and bowl on the floor vanished but Draco did not blink, still watching Harry closely. "Well…are you? She was just beginning to feel a little better, and then you turn up and cause…well, for want of a better word, chaos."

"I thought…"

"Whatever you thought it was wrong; I don't know what you said to her that night but it struck a chord whatever it was." Draco swallowed nervously remembering the conversation. "She trusted you, and since you turned up here a few days ago she's been slaving herself trying to get others to see that you aren't going to betray us all. Oh I know you're not," Harry nodded. "But not everyone believes her. They all gossip behind her back anyway, because she's a woman with high rank, because she's so intelligent, because she stays away from everyone since her…since her parents died. Everyone's lost someone in this war Draco, but Hermione feels guilt that no one else does because if she hadn't chosen to go to Hogwarts none of this would have happened. It's all her own choices that have led her to where she is…

"The right choices…"

"Yes. But when your parents are murdered you start to question your judgement. And she's been doing that for five long years, she doesn't talk about it, not even to me or Ron or Ginny. Sometimes I question whether she can feel anymore, because sometimes her eyes are so dead I struggle to believe that she's alive. And now, the last few days, defending you, she's had energy again, not the cold bitter energy she's been fighting with for the last half decade, but true energy. Don't you dare…"

"What, Potter? Upset her? Too late. I already did. Time and time again, this afternoon wasn't the first time and doubtless it won't be the last. She needs to cry, she needs to show her anger…it will help her."

"I hope you're right Malfoy, I really do. Because right now, on the other side of this fort, she's helpless."


	5. He Found Me

Hermione shivered; sat up on the battlements of the fort she could see the lights of Plymouth in the distance. She hated how confused she had been since Draco had collapsed on her, why did he have to turn up when she was doing sentry duty? Of all the…no it wasn't worth questioning, he wasn't worth it. The way he spoke, it was almost as if he cared for her, which was a ridiculous suggestion but…the way he had spoken of her parents, unless he did care why would he apologise in the way he had?

"Hermione…" She turned around to find herself enveloped in a hug, she knew that smell, those strong arms.

"Ron…" She clung to him and hid her face to stop the tears that ran down her face showing.

"Harry said you were up here." As if an explanation was needed.

"How long have you been back?"

"A few hours." He fiddled with the lapels on her shoulders. "I would have come sooner but the debriefing took longer than expected, the new developments…Harry said it was you who found him."

"He found me."

"Oh." Hermione took a step backward and Ron tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "'Mione you're cold. Come down to the mess with me, you must be hungry…"

"I'm fine."

"You have to eat."

"I…"

"Hermione…" He scolded and she chuckled softly. "Oh Merlin, I sound like my mother don't I? Come on, this calls for mead." He wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders and led her down the stone stairs and across the fort into the mess lit by flickering lanterns. A few people looked up as they entered and nodded in greeting. Ron sat Hermione down in an armchair by the fire and conjured a blanket to tuck round her. "I'll be right back." Hermione nodded and Ron crossed the room to gather food and drink for them.

Hermione fixed her gaze solidly on a point on the wall, trying her hardest to ignore the gaze of her fellow officers. She should have been used to it by now, the enquiring glances, the quiet but cruel comments but even after over half a decade, it still hurt her beneath the cold exterior.

"Here you go." Ron handed her a plate of beef stew and she picked at it for about ten minutes under his watchful gaze before giving it up as a lost cause. She quickly finished the small glass of mead he had brought her and stood up.

"Don't…" Her eyes were daring him, challenging him to question her and he knew better than to do so, not when she was acting like this – Ron couldn't say what she was feeling because he honestly didn't know, never had, hadn't tried to understand, only to be there for her when she needed him.

Taking a fresh plate of stew and some water from the mess she pulled on her great coat and crossed quickly through the glum night into the field hospital where Draco was propped up in bed, inspecting his fingernails.

"Ah Granger…delightful, I was getting quite bored…and waitress service as well now, my my…I wonder why I didn't drop by sooner."

Hermione smiled sarcastically and sat down on the end of his bed, playing with the hem of her great coat. Draco's attention was focussed on her momentarily before he yielded to the demands of his stomach and began to eat. "How are you feeling?"

"Why so concerned…" He paused, fork halfway to his mouth.

"I…"

"No, wait. Sorry I…I'm feeling a little better thanks." He smiled hesitantly and Hermione nodded in reply. "Is this place as vast as it seems?"

"Yes."

"For somewhere so huge, it's remarkably well concealed. I take it there are no Muggle repelling charms?"

"The place couldn't just disappear from under their noses."

"Understandable. But, immensely difficult to find you know. I had quite a struggle getting here." He lowered his gaze briefly. "I couldn't' do it anymore, about three years ago…I just couldn't take the lies anymore. But then…Severus…I had to go on. To honour him, and Dumbledore."

Hermione met his eyes and saw the flicker of anguish within them, the need to be recognised for his deeds. "You did well, Draco. Soon…soon we will be free."

"Do you honestly believe that? That we could ever be free? This…this lie is all I have ever known, and you've been stuck in it since you were eleven."

"I believe that we will have the chance to build ourselves a future. I want that chance Draco."

"Yes, I can see that." He scraped his plate clear and placed the enamel dish on the rickety table beside his bed. "You're going to run aren't you?"

Hermione flushed. "I had, considered it…briefly."

"The intention was there, it's in your eyes. You need an escape."

"But I, I don't want to run…"

"Good. You're not a runner."

"Draco?"

"Mmmm?"

"Why…I don't understand, why are you…"

"Well someone's got to make the fucking effort to get you to talk about it haven't they. And I don't see anyone else trying." He half shouted indignantly.

"I never…"

"No exactly, you just buried the grief away time after time after time. At least I took my aggression out, and not in the way you're thinking either," for he had noticed the way here eyes had flashed in anger. "I have my methods. But you, for over a decade you've been bottling up every little doubt you ever had, every niggling feeling and every tear. It can't go on, you'll explode."

Hermione looked up at him, there was such sincerity in his eyes that it shocked her. "Thank you."

"It was nothing." He shrugged. She hesitated before standing up again, Draco's attention was now on the activity out of the window – they were practising night attack drills.

"Good night Draco."

"Running away again?"

She smiled one hand on the door frame, half of her face bathed in darkness. "No. The answers are right here."

Draco watched her as she crossed the fort, dodging some spells and hexes as she went, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of the great coat that billowed around her in the wind. Someone, probably Potter or a Weasley, stopped her and she exchanged a few polite words before moving on towards where he presumed her barracks were.

Slumping down against the bed he resolved to think about her more in the morning, but for now he needed rest. His first rest in years.


	6. Looking For Answers In A Bottle

**A/N: **So I've been out of hospital all of three hours and I'm already posting another chapter...Thanks for the reviews, I've got to say they were some of the best I've ever had and definetly cheered me up - major knee surgery does tend to dampen the spirits a little. I would have updated sooner, sorry, but I've been holed up in a private hospital since Wednesday night. A Draco-centric chapter, yay! Enjoy!

Oh yeah, and a great song to listen to whilst reading this is _Anouk - Lovin' Whiskey_ particularly the acoustic version. X

* * *

"And how are you feeling today Mr. Malfoy?" Some young healer checked his pulse and stood back, smiling mundanely. 

He eyed her suspiciously and frowned. "Fine…thank you, any chance I could get out of this damn place?" Over the course of a week he'd watched a few minor injury cases come and go and to be frank, he was itching to get back on his feet for more than two minutes.

"Well…" She hesitated. "I'd need to check with senior command."

"Bugger senior command, I'm not going to blow you all up. I chose to come here." He swore under his breath and looked up again with cold eyes. "Is Hermione around?" Draco hadn't seen her since the intense conversation about eight days ago, which was highly suspicious in itself.

"Hermione?"

"Yes…Hermione Granger…small, skinny, hair that looks like a hedge…" He waved his hands around his head and the healer gave a quirk of a smile.

"You mean Lieutenant Colonel Granger…"

"I don't give a damn what her rank is. Where is she?"

"Wouldn't have a clue. I'll go and talk to administration though, see if they can talk to command and get you out of here…"

"Goddamn bureaucracy." Draco muttered, dropping his head into his hands.

"There will be no need for that Davies, if you could give us a minute please." Draco looked up to see what looked suspiciously like a Weasley and Remus Lupin eyeing him as the healer slipped out.

"Draco, I don't believe you know Bill Weasley." Draco nodded recognition and shook Remus' hand dutifully. "How are you feeling?"

"I've heard that question far too many times," he mumbled before speaking clearly. "Fine, just fine, apart from being confined to this hole."

"Yes well, you needed the rest and we've had a fight on our hands trying to persuade the other commanders that you have renounced the Dark Lord, that you did a long time ago.

"Damn straight."

"But with Hermione and her impassioned outbursts out the way, we've managed it."

"Where is she?" If Lupin was shocked at Draco's expressed concern for the woman he didn't show it. Not outwardly anyway.

"On a reconnaissance mission." Draco nodded and Remus continued. "They are now willing to induct you into the Order, if that is what you wish?" Another nod. "Good. I'll get hold of a uniform for you. You will be given the rank of Major for your endeavours. Don't take this lightly Draco; we've gone to a lot of trouble…but never mind that now. What matter's is getting you involved in the planning; you will no doubt have much vital information."

"Hopefully, otherwise this has all been for nothing." He rolled his eyes and sunk back into the pillows. Remus turned and called the healer over.

"Could you please go to stores and collect Major Malfoy's uniform?" Davies nodded and left. "I'd better go Draco; Bill will show you to your quarters. Dinner is served in the mess from seven, come to morning briefing in the command room at eight."

He smiled and turned to leave, "thank you," Draco's voice rang out and the smile broadened.

Bill chuckled softly and sat down next to Draco, tilting the chair backwards as they waited for Davies to return. "Sorry, about…you know…" Draco gestured towards the scars on Bill's face.

"Fenrir?"

"Yeah. I hate him, always have done, I didn't want him to come that night…I wish…"

"It's in the past, Draco. I forgave you a long time ago."

"Thank you."

"No worries."

Davies came through the door and deposited the uniform at the end of Draco's bed before disappearing again. Draco hurriedly clambered out of bed and began pulling on the black garments, as he shrugged on the jacket he smiled slightly. "I've been waiting for this day for years…"

"Right, officer's barracks are on the other side of the fort." Bill stood up and Draco pulled on his great coat for the walk. The sun had just set and you could still see people moving about the fort easily, a few passing troops saluted the pair and more than a few inquisitive glances were sent in Draco's direction. Bill led Draco into a small room with three beds and a clutter of trunks in the corner, a few chairs round them and cards scattered on top. "You're in here with me and my brother Charlie, figured we were less likely to kill you as you slept than anyone."

"Cheers."

"I'll arrange someone to bring you spare kit, have the bed on the left," Draco nodded and deposited the tattered robes he had wearing when he arrived on the bed. "Right…I have, work to be doing. I'll come and get you just before seven, show you how the mess works."

Bill smiled briefly and disappeared; Draco sat down on the bed and buried his head in his hands. Settling into the Order of the Phoenix was going to be a hard task, no one trusted him, he could see it in their eyes. And the one person who had been standing up for him had gone and he didn't know when she'd be back. Draco supposed that in the past he would have had the gall to go and enquire, but he didn't think now was the time to be flaunting his ego.

Later he lay in the dark, having eaten in the mess with Bill and a few others, but he wasn't in the mood to socialise. There was a bottle of firewhisky on the mantelpiece and he clambered out from under his thin sheets to get it. The amber liquid burned his throat and he smiled appreciatively. It had been too long.

He took another swig and felt his blood rush; he hadn't gone two weeks without alcohol in ten years. He'd discovered firewhisky aged thirteen and it had quickly become a habit. Not in term time to start with, but by the time he reached sixth year he was beginning to rely on it. Draco had found that during the war, if he woke up with a pounding hangover, he could forget his disgusting activities as a Death Eater more easily, or at least not focus on them.

Another long gulp. When would Hermione be back? He couldn't quite understand why but he missed her, had missed her for seven long years since that conversation in Little Whinging. She'd been surprisingly cooperative and understanding and had listened to him for hours and hours. Of course, it had also been her that persuaded him to rejoin the Death Eaters…more firewhisky, the bitch. It better have been fucking worth it. He scowled and looked down at the Dark Mark on his arm, it was burning slightly…Voldemort was angry. Draco shivered and leant back against the cold stone wall.

"Draco…" Bill's voice came out of the darkness.

"Yeah?"

"Looking for answers in a bottle?"

Draco took another swig. "Yeah…"

"Hermione will be arriving back around ten am tomorrow. We just received a report from her."

Bill removed the bottle from Draco's protective grasp and set it back on the mantelpiece. "Why should I care?" He slurred as Bill pulled off his own boots and settled down.

"Wouldn't have a fucking clue mate, but you do."

"Merlin…"


End file.
